Blackberries
by Kerewyn
Summary: As the Fellowship travel from Moria to Lothlorien after losing Gandalf, Pippin is waylaid by some monstrous fruit.


_After languishing on a hard drive since circa 2005, I thought this really should see the light of da_ y! _This short Pippin-centric tale is a little side-step from canon as the Fellowship travel from Moria to Lothlorien._

* * *

The afternoon toiled on, and Pippin let his thoughts wander at last. Gandalf's loss had been a heavy weight on a young mind unaccustomed to grief. He allowed himself to be distracted by dreams of the Shire. Happier visions danced through his mind… bales of hay, apple pie steaming on Pearl's window sill, a mug of ale with froth gently wafting over the edge, baskets of ripe juicy blueberries, blackberries… a vision of blackberries swam into view. Huge they were, clustered and dark, temptingly close.

Pippin rubbed his eyes, and gasped slightly. They were no mere vision. There they were, just a little way off the track forged by Strider. It wouldn't take a moment to dart over and pluck a pocketful. Pippin opened his mouth to call Merry, then halted. He would surprise Merry. A plump juicy blackberry should cheer him up no end. And Frodo – surely that Ring could not ruin one's desire for such lovely fruit. It was the least Pippin could do, after all the trouble he'd brought about back in Moria.

Pippin almost skipped to the blackberry patch. There was a tiny path between the brambles leading to the biggest, brightest berries. If he just wriggled past these outstretched briars – the thorns did look terribly nasty – and then reached out, like so…

A cry alerted Legolas, Merry and Boromir in time for them to witness poor Pippin being engulfed by a blackberry bush with an intent of its own. Aragorn had gone on well head to scan for potential routes, but Boromir, who'd been scanning the horizon from the rear, gave a shout.

"Master Took! Do not go off the path!"

It was far too late. Pippin was well and truly trapped. The branches had moved behind him, enclosing him in a thorny prison. The hobbit, wriggling and twisting in alarm, was becoming more and more ensnared by the evil barbs with every move. His clothing was hooked, his hair snarled, bloody scratches beading across his cheeks.

Merry strode up to the patch firmly.

"Come now Pip, you're holding everyone up. Just wriggle out of there, and be quick about it".

"I can't, Merry!"

To demonstrate his plight, Pippin gave an extra strenuous struggle forward. The bramble branch moved like a spidery old limb, swiping a thorn dangerously close to the hobbit's eye, then embedding itself in his cheek. And was it…yes it was! The bush was actually pulling him further into its prickly clutches.

"Ow!" Pippin gasped. He was really frightened now.

"Strider! Merry! Help me! Oh, if only Tom Bombadil were here. Oh Merry, isn't this like the Old Forest?"

"It seems to me a plant of the Morgul Vale, a hideous nature that some would call beauty. What evil wind bore its seed here, so close to Lorien?" Legolas murmured. Moving as close as he dared, he reached a long arm toward the hobbit, but to no avail. Pippin was out of reach, an awful barrier between himself and his would-be rescuers.

Merry scowled, hands on hips.

"Pippin! How could you? After all the warnings Gandalf's given you, and the dangers we've passed… and after all the care Strider has taken. How could you be so careless? Poor Frodo has a terrible burden to carry, and is in pain as well – and you! You are holding him and us all up, with your nuisance. The Orcs will catch up to us now, see, before we can hide under the cover of night."

"But Merry, look!" began Pippin with a quavering smile.

"See – ouch – see how big the berries are? There is enough for everyone and they're so juicy. You would have taken them too, I know you would."

"They're not fruit for the taking, they're bait, you bumblehead!" Merry hissed. "And you were caught, just like a fish in the Brandywine on Farmer Maggot's red-eye fly."

Turning away, he refused to look at his younger cousin.

A fat tear rolled down Pippin's cheek.

"Merry!", he pleaded. But Merry kept his back turned, thunder on his brow.

Aragorn arrived with Gimli close behind, Frodo and Sam bringing up the rear. Boromir had drawn his sword, and was slashing at the brambles, but as fast as one branch was severed, another wily snarl moved to take its place. Aragorn drew his, and began to attack the bush.

"Pippin" he said firmly. "You must learn restraint. Frodo, stay well away from this bush… it would have you and what you carry, leaving you at the mercy of Saruman's minions. Which will be Pippin's fate if we don't free him soon."

"Aye, and with Orcs on our trail, we stumble from one danger to another" muttered Gimli. "Ambushed by a bush, no less!"

"It is no good", Legolas said. "We're not making any headway. Pippin, don't wriggle! You'll only make it worse."

"There is a way", said Gimli. "Stand back! Now you will see the truth of the dwarven axe in action." Pushing past Boromir, he began wielding his axe about him at a furious pace.

"Back me up!" he shouted. "We will show this bearer of evil fruit just who is boss!"

With a roar of squeaks and creaks, the blackberry bush cowered under Gimli's blows. His axe flew quickly, hacking, chopping, clearing a path to the frightened Pippin. Branches and brambles flew, and such was the chaos and speed that those brambles that tried to reach for Gimli were immediately dealt to by the two swords that brought up the rear.

"Be careful!" cried Merry and Frodo in anguish. "Don't hurt Pippin!"

"Now!" roared Gimli. "Go ahead and free him! I'll keep the path clear!"

Legolas and Aragorn dashed ahead, while Boromir remained near Gimli, keeping the groaning thorns at bay. Using knives and blade of sword, they worked swiftly to free the entangled hobbit by deftly sawing at the gnarled branches holding him. The blackberry bush shuddered all over, beaten. Then, with a final creaking groan, it released Pippin, and spat him forward into Legolas's arms.

The hobbits clustered around Pippin, who trembled but tried to smile bravely.

"We must get these off you as soon as possible" said Legolas, and seating Pippin on a nearby log, began to gently release the burrs embedded in Pippin's legs and face. Frodo plucked the thorns from Pippin's cloak and jacket, while Merry, greatly relieved yet feeling very cross, tugged at the snarls in his hair. Aragorn made up a healing mixture of atheleas to dab onto Pippin's wounds.

"We do not know what foulness resides in the tips of these thorns" he said. "The last thing we need is another poisoned hobbit on our hands."

* * *

Night had fallen. The company had tried to make up time by walking more quickly, but it was telling on Frodo, who lagged further and further behind.

"Let me carry him on my back", said Boromir.

"We will make camp soon" said Aragorn. "I do think we may have given the Orcs the slip after all."

Legolas walked beside Gimli, who for some time had been holding forth about the quality of axes he had carried over his years.

"Truly you have considerable skill with an axe". Legolas smiled. "Your speed was admirable. Yet I still saw your every move. You have a way to go before you can match the speed of an Elf, whose loading of the bow can oft not be seen by the naked eye."

"Bah!" Gimli snorted. "And what use is a bow and arrow against a blackberry bush? Why, none whatsoever!"

"I concede", Legolas replied. "But you'd be wise not to boast of your blade when you enter Lorien, for it will not be admired there."

Pippin jogged beside Merry beseechingly, trying to engage his sympathy, his conversation, his anything. But Merry stalked on solidly, and refused to catch his cousin's eye.

A halt eventually was called, and relief came to the feet of all, though the minds of none.

* * *

"He didn't think of you or anybody, just his own stomach."

"But Merry", Frodo tried to reason, then gave up. For a moment, he sat silent, staring at the ground, then stood.

"I appreciate your concern", he said coldly, and walked away. Sam leapt to his feet and started after him.

"Stay there Sam", Frodo said over his shoulder, and kept walking over to where Pippin sat hunched in misery.

Sam stopped, swaying on his feet as if fighting a greater force that would have him move forward at all costs. He looked after Frodo beseechingly, then glowered as his master seated himself beside the unhappy young hobbit.

"Always kind is Mr Frodo", Sam muttered to himself. "… never thinking of himself, he is, in spite of, well, you know, that thing around his poor neck. He shouldn't be the one having to patch things up"… with a sideways glance at Merry. "There are some folks as shouldn't have come, see? Some folks don't deserve his kindness."

Frodo rumpled Pippin's curls.

"There there", he said. "No harm was done in the end. See? I am quite alright. And look, Sting does not shine, so the Orcs have taken a different path. It is well to be wary of what Merry says, but this incident allowed us to rest our feet a little, if nothing else."

Pippin whimpered.

"Merry has never been this cross with me before. Why must he be so mean? I'm sure he thinks I am responsible for… for Gandalf."

"No one is blaming you for that", whispered Frodo in some despair. Was poor Pip really carrying such a burden?

"Why did I come?" Pippin sobbed. "Why did Elrond let us come? I want to go home. I am useless on this Quest thing... I know you all hate me."

"Don't be silly", Frodo said sharply, then pulled his young cousin into a remorseful hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you and Merry behind me and Sam."

Still holding Pippin in his embrace, he fumbled in his waistcoat for one of Bilbo's handkerchiefs to pat at Pippin's damp eyes. The flicker of gold beneath his shirt froze the young Took's sobs, and a fascinated look came over his face.

"Oh", Pippin breathed. "It is terribly shiny isn't it. I've never seen it this close before." His fingers crept up Frodo's shirt. "May I just… ?"

"Don't! Don't, Pippin." Frodo jumped up, startled, and backed away.

* * *

Aragorn saw Frodo standing on the ridge, barely silhouetted against the night's hue, and went to stand by him. The Ringbearer remained still and silent for a long while, then turned his face upward with dark, hollowed eyes.

"Strider", he said. "It's getting stronger. Do you feel it?"

"The Ring's power?" Aragorn said softly.

"Yes. The others are succumbing to it. It's subtle, but I can see how it is. It's not just Gandalf's fall that is affecting my friends. Merry is in a temper and being quite unreasonable. Pippin is wallowing in self-pity. And Sam… Sam is jealous."

Aragorn said nothing. His glance strayed to the man from Gondor who sat polishing his sword and passing quiet words with the dwarf. He placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder and clenched it firmly.

A tone of menace seemed to permeate the night. As they stood there, both had the impression a deep awful voice had just laughed and left the memory of the sound resonating in the air.


End file.
